


Dornan Darkening

by Nika_Bo



Category: Fifty Shades (Movies) RPF, Fifty Shades of Grey (2015), The Fall (TV 2013)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 02:29:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12546800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nika_Bo/pseuds/Nika_Bo
Summary: Playing fractured characters, might fracture something in you too! Dornan's portrayals of Grey and Spector take their toll.





	1. Prologue

Between the idea and the reality,  
Between the motion and the act,  
Falls the shadow.  
(T.S. Eliot)

I did but shear a feather,  
And dream and truth flowed from me;  
darkness closed me; and I fell.  
(Lord Tennyson)

 

***

“So, who is this guy?” Gillian Anderson was curious to learn who that mysterious man was that her producer and writer Alan Cubitt had been fawning about these past few days. Jamie Dornan! 

Originally he had come in to try for a minor role as one of the police officers but Alan had seen something in him and called him back to read for the lead role of Paul Spector and Jamie had given a performance that had blown Alan away and convinced him to exclusively offer him the part as the serial killer. 

Apparently Dornan was a newbie, had only done a couple of minor roles and used to work as an underwear model. Gillian sighed, Hollywood and its obsession with beauty. No surprise there but she was disappointed to find Alan and the BBC falling victim to the same trap.

That was until Cubitt showed her the tape of the guy’s audition. 

Afterwards Gillian sat there, stunned, and wondered what exactly she had just seen: a mix of good-natured Irish charm and warmth, paired with a fidgety boyishness that on-screen turned into menace and condensed fury, offset by a calm, almost stoic demeanour and reluctant smouldering sex-appeal.

She found it hard to recall details, what he’d exactly looked like. He’d been a force, more of a constant shifting of emotions than a tangible person. Gillian had felt queasy, almost high after the tape had ended. Confusion, excitement, a feeling like a punch in the gut and an acute sense of danger had stayed with her.

She had agreed with Cubitt that this was their Spector. Him or nobody!

That night, lying in bed and wondering whether Alan would successfully convince everyone to let Jamie play the part, the younger man’s features came back to her.  
A mop of curly dark blonde hair above a perfectly proportioned, chiseled face; straight brows that had framed wide, mesmerizing dark eyes in the most unusual shade of grey. A sensuous mouth with a disarming smile, accentuated by a scruffy 5-day beard. His lithe yet muscular body, graceful, almost balletic, with elegant, long-fingered hands that were almost musical in their movement. 

Yes, he was very pretty. Dangerously pretty. Gillian was tempted to admit that he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. She fell asleep with the memory of a deep Belfast accent in her ears and dreamed of grey eyes, stormy clouds and things in the darkness.

***


	2. Cover Up

 

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“How do you cope with being nude on set?”

Dakota shrugged and smiled at her friend. “It’s fine. No big deal.”

***

Later, back at the hotel, she thought about her friend’s incredulity at her response and relaxed attitude. But it was true, Dakota really didn’t mind the film team staring at her. Eleven weeks into shooting they’d all gotten fairly used to her nakedness by now. The set was safe, relaxed. At times she felt clothed despite her nudity. Besides, it wasn’t like she was gonna grow a third boob if the boom boy looked at her for too long. It wasn’t much different from sunbathing topless on a Mediterranean beach. 

People looked. Their eyes lingered, occationally.

Appreciative from the heterosexual men. Critically from the make-up lady. Was the body paint splodgy? Uninterested from the gay stylist. Concerned from Andrew the old, grandfatherly focus-puller who had a niece Dakota’s age.

She knew all their glances and was fine with them. Unfazed.

All but one. Dornan. 

Jamie and the grey-blue storm of his eyes. His gaze made the bottom of her stomach drop out. One look from him had her pulse spike into overdrive and got her nipples to harden, every time. Jamie and his ability to make her feel naked while she was still fully clothed. 

Dakota shivered and pulled her cardigan closer around her. Just the memory of his eyes did unbelievable things to her. She felt vulnerable, insecure, exposed. It was a mystery how he managed to make her feel positively transparent as soon as her clothes fell away, so that there were no more secrets. Not for him. He could see it all. Everything. And it left her terrified.

It was ridiculous. The longer they were shooting together, the more nervous she became in his presence. Dakota noticed that she was biting her lip. Again. Lately she didn’t just do it on camera when she was Anastasia Steele but even more so when she was herself and Jamie was around. The intimidated college student she had portrayed back then during the first week of shooting had somehow over these past weeks found a way into her own psyche.

She stared down the 24-floors of the hotel tower into the bustle of downtown Vancouver. Tomorrow was Monday, their final week of shooting, and she had a 6am call into make-up. Another Red Room day was scheduled, the kinky stuff this time, which meant that she would have to be naked. And that Jamie was definitely going to be there too.

Gallant Jamie, who always threw the nearest bathrobe or blanket over her prone form as soon as Sam Taylor-Johnson called Cut! when they did a nude scene. Funny Jamie, who had joked and goofed his way into her heart during filming those first excruciatingly important meeting scenes at Grey House when they all had been nervous and tense with the responsibility for such a beloved franchise, the expectations of millions of fans – not to mention EL James sitting in the corner like a bulldog, supervising.

Dakota had been nothing short of in awe at the way Jamie had handled it. He was the one it all came down to after all. The book was called Shades of Grey, not Shades of Steele and Dakota had no illusions about the fact that the majority of pressure was resting on Jamie’s well defined shoulders. The success of this film would be determined by his performance, answering the question whether the fans would accept him, if he could manage to be the foil for millions of female fantasies as the sexual deviant Christian Grey.

Personally Dakota had no doubts that Jamie would be wonderful. 

She’d been fine with her first film partner as long as he’d been in the mix but afterwards she had wondered how they could all ever have considered anyone who was not Jamie Dornan for the role. She had seen footage of him in the first season of The Fall and he’d been a revelation. 

So had Sam Taylor-Johnson and that had been the moment she’d gone over EL James’ head and approached the studio execs directly to convince them that this lean, stormy-eyed Belfast hallion with chiseled features, well-hidden fragility and internal darkness was the one and the only one to portray this role. 

Dakota took a sip from her cup of herbal tea. The chemistry between her and Jamie had been instantaneous and she remembered when Sam had called her into the editing room in week five to show her a rough cut of the first love scene between Christian and Ana.

“Wow, it looks fantastic.” Dakota had a lump in her throat when Sam stopped the file. After the emotional turmoil of shooting it, this was the first time she got to see what exactly had happened that day. Until now the memory had mostly been a hazy blur.

“It really does,” the director replied. “Listen, this is the preliminary version for the studio. But I know they are pushing for a PG-15. So if anything they will de-sexy it further, cut out even more. No need for you to worry. This is as hardcore as this little scene will get, there won’t be any surprises. Is that okay for you?”

“More than okay.” Dakota still tried to overcome the tastefully shot visuals of Jamie doing all those delicious things to her. The close-up of his mouth skimming over her thigh, the way his long, elegant fingers traced patterns on her skin, the delicate way he’d peeled the bra from her shoulders, his touch lingering for a heartbeat. She was mentally cataloguing all those images, her mirror neurons firing up in exited recognition. 

The time he’d brushed his knuckles over her exposed breasts as he’d leaned in to kiss her neck. That devastating moment when he’d pushed her back onto the bed, crawled up her body to settle between her legs and had bend his head to ghost his mouth over her nipple. She saw herself lying on the bed and remembered Jamie’s Grey hovering over her, about to enter and deflower Anastasia; noticed her nervous breathing that was hollowing out her stomach, and flashed back to the way Jamie had looked at her – his eyes black in the reduced lighting of the night scene – while he’d simulated grabbing his cock and aligning himself to push into her in one swift move. 

Her frantic breathing hadn’t had anything to do with acting in that moment. And God, to see them move in synchronicity together, to remember the friction of their naked bodies against each other! 

Anastasia’s desire to touch Christian had been nothing compared to Dakota’s urge to touch Jamie in those moments. She didn’t have to remind herself to make an appropriate blissful face. She had just closed her eyes and indulged in Jamie’s weight on her, how he’d moved her across the mattress with slow languid thrusts, wondering if he’d use the same rhythm for first-time sex in private, loving his breath in her ear, his face against her neck, the soft sounds he’d made.

Sam hadn’t needed more than that first master take and a few close-ups to create this sensual feast. Dakota was stunned. “This is unbelievable, Sam. I cannot wait to see what you’ll make of the real hardcore stuff in the Red Room.”

“Thank you darling, and don’t worry, I’m here to tell a love story, make a movie. Not a porno.”

Dakota laughed nervously. For all she cared at that moment someone could cast her and Jamie Dornan in a porno anytime they liked. She would just ask them where to sign for it.

Leaning her head against the cool window pane Dakota closed her eyes. Gorgeous, beautiful Jamie who’s dark grey gaze could innocently undress her, could peel away layer after layer of her carefully arranged cloaks of casual indifference and collegial bonhomie. Strip her bare, exposing someone who was fragile yet feral. 

And falling. Falling hard for him. 

Shaking her head to get rid of these thoughts Dakota sighed and turned away from the window. Right now it was time to go to bed and emotionally prepare for tomorrow’s shoot in the Red Room of Pain.


	3. Grey Matters

It was Sunday evening, Jamie was relaxing in a hot bath, cold bottle of beer in his hand and thought back on the summer when he had filmed Shadows in the Sun. That character had been very close to him: someone quiet, internal and unpretentious. Lately he felt that he was always portraying men with an acute awareness of their exterior self and the effect they had on others, particularly women.

Ever since he’d gotten that 3am call from Sam about the studio’s casting decision last October he’d actively tried to avoid the effects: the public gossip surrounding the shooting of Shades of Grey, the pressure, the speculations, fan opinions concerning his casting, all of it. It messed too much with his head.

But lately it was becoming difficult to maintain that self-protecting bubble and almost impossible to escape scrutiny. It seemed that with the end of the shoot approaching the public curiosity was coming to a frenzied saturation point in all matters of Grey. Just the other day a lady had come up to him in the street and shouted that Matt Boomer was the true Christian Grey. Jamie had been at a loss for words. All he wanted was to do the best job he possibly could. Christian Grey was a superhero kind of figure. Nobody could do that justice. But he was trying.

It hadn’t exactly helped though that Sam – whenever he had done something he believed would look sexy on camera during early rehearsals for their Red Room scenes two weeks ago – had pulled him aside and told him no, not that way. It had been highly disconcerting and had messed with his confidence.

Eventually he had fallen into a kind of existential crisis, second-guessing every move he pulled in the bedroom on set – and worse, at home. For the first time in their relationship he had problems getting hard when sleeping with Millie. After 5 days it had become clear that he had a full-grown block. Nothing worked, he simply couldn’t get it up.

Millie’s mood, already not the brightest ever since they’d come to Vancouver three months ago, had soured considerably. Unfortunately her determination to cure the problem hadn’t. Once he’d fallen asleep while she’d been trying to blow him. Millie had been furious but Jamie couldn’t help it. He had been tense from Red Room rehearsals for days now, was bone-tired and exhausted after 15 hour shoot days followed by turbulent nights of restless sleep and it was starting to show. The dark circles under his eyes during the kissing scene on the steps in Christian’s apartment two days before had been real, his desperation in the kiss too. 

He had wanted to prove something. What exactly and to whom was unclear. 

Dakota had asked him afterwards if he was okay. He’d been unusually taciturn and after wrapping for the day had fled the set as soon as he could.

The fight with Millie at home had continued. In the end she’d decided to fly back home to London for a while. Jamie had been devastated. After she’d left he had cancelled their cosy self-catering flat – it felt too big and lonely now – and had checked into the same hotel as Dakota. He needed the anonymous courtesy and efficiency of room-service after the domestic idyll with his wife had failed.

They had filmed the exterior glider scenes soon after and as a treat the studio had given him and Dakota both a flight with the professional stunt glider who’d been supervising on location. For the first time in weeks Jamie had felt elated. They were nearing the end of production, the majority of his scenes were in the can and Sam had assured him that she was more than happy with what he’d delivered so far. Only those explicit and kinky Red Room scenes were left to shoot now.

The Red Room. 

Jamie sighed and took a deep gulp of Guinness. He was generally fine with nudity, his and others. Years of raunchy fashion ad campaigns during his modeling years had reduced his inhibitions considerably. Unlike the very first love and bath scenes – where she had wanted a genuine shyness from Dakota – Sam Taylor-Johnson had left those particular sex scenes deliberately until the very end of shooting to give her lead stars time to get used to each other, built up trust. And they had. He and Dakota were… friends, in a way. As much as you allowed yourself to be friends with a woman who…

Jamie didn’t finish that thought. 

It was better not to go there. Safer.


End file.
